By Any Other Name
by SangEtOr
Summary: In those precious moments, she had given him more than he had ever hoped for. She had given him friendship, she had given him trust. But most importantly, she had given him an identity. He became a person, because she gave him a person's name, so he could be called. Shin-ah could be known, in a way that the cursed, nameless Blue Dragon could never be.


_Though the focus will be on Shin-ah, I try to give a realistic representation of the other (potential pairing) characters. They're interesting and well developed in the manga, no matter whom I'd like to pair with the princess (or anyone else), so, fear not! You won't find any bashing in my stories. Safely experiment with a non-favourite or non-canon pairing. ;-)_

* * *

Hak could hear her stirring.

Although the princess was his focus, the most important person to him, he kept watch over their whole group. Even knowing that she had recruited _them_ to protect _him_ , he still kept an eye out. As much as they annoyed him sometimes, he missed those annoying voices around him. He smiled to himself, fondly remembering bickering with his siblings and subordinates in the Wind Tribe. Maybe the princess was right – bullying people was a hobby of his.

But all of the others in their 'happy hungry bunch,' he thought with a snicker, were quiet. Shin-ah was absent – he had gone to wander on his own shortly after the others had retired – but that wasn't unusual. True to his name, he seemed to enjoy his solitude on clear nights like this one.

He pretended not to notice when she roused herself, obviously shaken, because she wandered past him, following the path of their blue-haired companion.

With a sigh, he settled back in to rest. He couldn't express how he appreciated having others around that he could trust with his princess. After the betrayal they had suffered, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trust anyone again – let alone trusting them with his most precious person. But he knew, somehow, that these _dragons_ were as devoted as they seemed. Maybe they didn't have a choice. Maybe that was weird. But it didn't really matter to Hak. They would never betray her, just like he would never betray her.

A part of him was sad that she hadn't come to him. But he remembered their time wandering the woods together, when they'd first fled the castle, and he knew he would never go back to that. As much as he loved to be her only crutch, her only protector – as much as he loved feeling so important to her – he knew this was better. It was good for her to branch out. She could grow, and learn more than he alone could teach her.

And even if it was light – alert for signs of danger – he could finally get some sleep.

* * *

The moon was full in the clearing where the Blue Dragon stood, staring up at the night sky. He contemplated, not for the first time, the pale blue light shining down on him, and what it meant to someone else.

Not for the first time, he wondered what everyone else saw when they looked up at the night sky. He wondered if he would ever know.

Perhaps, if he survived to grow old, and another Blue Dragon was born and entrusted to his care, he would see it. Perhaps, as his successor grew and learned the ways of his curse, and his own powers began to wane, then he could cast his eyes around him and see the world of ordinary humans. Or, perhaps, he would never truly know. How would he know at what point, as his powers fled and blindness crept in from the shadows, his senses might be equal to those around him? How would he know what ordinary people saw when their eyes swept over the world?

Staring up at the moon, he contemplated what he saw. He saw craters and crevices, mountains and valleys, sweeping plains and scars of shadow. He saw the haze of light around the moon, reflected on the wispy clouds that drifted to the horizon. He saw the pale glow of the earth, bathed in the light of the moon, and he wondered what she saw that night that she named him.

"Shin-ah," she had called him. She told him he was her moonlight, and – on that night, for the first time – he stared around him at the moon, and its light, and everything that light touched, and wondered how much of it she could see.

"Ao…" he murmured to his companion, perched on his shoulder, munching happily at an acorn. "What do you see?" He wondered, not for the first time, but for the first time he wondered aloud.

Listening to the squirrel's chewing and chomping, he heard light footsteps in the grass behind him. He didn't turn. He knew who had joined him in the clearing.

She walked up behind him without speaking. He didn't know what she was looking at, and he couldn't seem to work up the courage to turn to face her. He wondered, not for the first time, what she saw when she looked at him.

It was so much like that night when she named him – standing in a clearing with a full moon shining overhead. He ached to hear her call his name again.

In those precious moments, she had given him more than he had ever hoped for. She had given him friendship, she had given him trust. But most importantly, she had given him an identity. He became a person, because she gave him a person's name, so he could be called. Shin-ah could be known, in a way the cursed, nameless Blue Dragon could never be.

For long minutes she stood behind him. He continued to stare at the moon, as if this time he could finally pierce it with his cursed gaze and it would finally reveal its secrets to him.

 _What do you look like to her?_ He asked the moon. _What do you look like to her?_ He asked himself.

"Yona…" He finally whispered by way of greeting. Words did not come easily to him, but her name never seemed to get stuck on his tongue.

"Having trouble sleeping?" She asked gently.

He finally turned his head to face her, and drank in the way the moonlight tangled in her hair. Her eyes stayed fixed on the moon for a few seconds before they moved to his face. He gave her a brisk nod.

 _How could I sleep on a night like this one?_

"Me too." She whispered.

Staring and wondering. Wondering and staring. Had he always spent so much time doing that? Of course not. Before her, what was there to wonder about? She brought wonder into his life. He did not have time to ponder that for long, because her complex gaze suddenly became clouded with unshed tears threatening to fall.

A wordless panic drowned out his thoughts, his eyebrows pulled together, and his lips turned down in a grimace.

"I'm sorry!" She muttered. "I'm sorry, I just…" Her words broke off, her mouth settling into a grimace, as she stubbornly rubbed her eyes, banishing any threatening tears.

For the first time, he wondered if maybe words didn't always come easily for her either.

She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Shin-ah watched her shoulders shake with the effort. He watched the tiny movements of her eyebrows as they furrowed and relaxed. He watched the blood gather around her eyes as she rubbed them. His sharp eyes took in all the minute changes that she lived through as emotions he didn't understand shook her tiny frame. _What do these faces mean?_ He asked himself. Some he thought he recognized. Some remained a mystery.

She spoke in a flat voice that almost sounded calm, "I'm sorry, Shin-ah. I didn't mean to disturb you… I just wanted some company."

Confused, but willing, he nodded.

His eyes flickered briefly back to the camp, where Yun still slept in the tent he had shared with Yona. She hadn't disturbed him when she emerged. Only the Thunder Beast, leaning against a tree outside the tents, showed any sign of disturbance. He seemed to still be sleeping, but fitfully. Perhaps he could sense, somehow, that his princess was disturbed or absent.

Shin-ah could only consider this for a moment before his attention was, as always, drawn back to Yona.

Her eyes still glistened and threatened to spill over again, but she turned with dignity, like the princess she was, and sat down in the meadow to gaze up at the moon. Shin-ah sat down next to her, knees close to his chest.

"Yona…" He began again, unsure.

The silence hung heavily between them. Cursing himself, and the miles that seemed to separate his mind from his mouth, he turned his face back to the moon. He wondered why she was here with him. Perhaps simply because he was still awake, while the others slept. He craved her presence, but a part of him wished she had woken Hak, instead. He would be able to cheer her… hold her… make her laugh. Hak watched over her, and Shin-ah watched over them all. He saw all the candid conversations of the group. He saw all the stolen glances, all the hidden smiles and tears. Nothing could hide from the eyes of the Blue Dragon.

But just because he saw, didn't mean he understood.

He saw her turn her face again, her eyes dark and her face blank.

"Shin-ah," his heart jumped a little at the sound of his name. He suspected it always would. "Do you ever have nightmares?"

He fought the panic bubbling inside him. He could never deny her anything in his power, but he wasn't sure this was in his power. He had always been quiet. He very seldom had anyone to talk to – at least not anyone who would listen. And he seldom had anything to say. But even for Yona he wasn't sure he could drudge up the darkness that haunted his dreams. And even if he could – even if he would – how could he possibly put it into words? Why would she want him to?

Troubled, he continued to stare stiffly up at the moon.

"I'm sorry, I said I wouldn't ask you to talk about it… and I won't." She murmured with quiet resolve. "I… I've been having nightmares."

His panic increased. His heart ached to think of her suffering. He outwardly shuddered, imagining her feeling the fear and pain that haunted him most nights. But what could he do? He could barely keep his own demons at bay – much less hers.

He turned to face her again, considering her words. He should acknowledge them somehow. It couldn't be easy to reveal that kind of weakness and pain to another – especially another whom she barely knew.

But she did know him, didn't she?

Not for the first time, his own train of thought stumped him. She knew relatively little about his life before they met, and even since he joined them, he'd shared little enough of his thoughts and feelings. But she'd named him. She'd found him and taken him away from his wretched life. He knew him better than anyone, he supposed.

Wrenching himself back into the present, and focusing his cursed eyes back on the red haired girl, he opened his mouth to speak.

"…"

Then he closed it again and looked away.

Keeping the rest of him very still, he lifted his left arm behind her back and placed in carefully, but deliberately, on her left shoulder. Wordlessly, he continued to stare at the moon. Words had never been his strength.

"…I'm sorry…" She said again, absurdly. Why would she need to apologize? If anything, he should apologize, but he doubted he could even get those words out with her so close. He meant to offer her comfort, but her proximity only seemed to thwart his already limited social skills.

He shook his head. He hoped she understood.

Long moments of silence passed between them. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps this was why she sought him out, rather than one of the others.

Though his sight was exceptional, one would have to be blind (and deaf, and stupid, Shin-ah thought) not to notice how all of his companions cared for her. Had she spoken those four words, "I've been having nightmares," to any of their group, he knew they would all have something to say. Hak might be sincere or sarcastic, Jea-ha might be teasing or touching – but either way he would be eloquent, Yun might suggest some kind of remedy or soothe her with his mothering ways, and Kija might earnestly pledge to protect her from her troubles with declarations of duty or meaningless platitudes. They would all have words to offer her.

He had none.

But perhaps she didn't want any.

…Or perhaps, she hoped for something else from him. _What can I give you?_

She seemed relaxed enough against his arm, her shoulder nestled under his, but a few inches still separating the rest of their bodies. She neither curled into him nor pulled away. Should he expect her to react somehow? Ao finished her munching, and ran along his arm to hop up on Yona's shoulder, snuggling against her cheek.

Finally, she heaved a sigh and turned her head to face him again. _What do you see?_ He asked himself, not even for the first time that night.

He angled his face so he was neither staring into hers, nor directly at the moon anymore. He was hedging in a cowardly way; she might assume he was looking at her or not, with the mask hiding his cursed eyes.

"None of you knew me, when I was a princess…" She began, wistfully. "I guess I am still a princess – my father was the king, and should still be the king – but I'm not the same princess that I was. I was happy, but I was ignorant."

Her face was still turned towards his, but he sensed that she wasn't really looking at him anymore. Ao curled up on her collarbone, pulling Yona's long earring towards her so the tip could support her head like a pillow, but she didn't seem to notice.

Her eyes were dark, and it seemed that she was looking into herself.

"I was even ignorant about my own ignorance. I couldn't imagine the things that were going on in the kingdom – _my_ kingdom – of which I had no knowledge. The brightness of the castle, and the people there that I cared for, and the ones that I didn't… that was my whole world. It was bright and luxurious and lovely. And it was tiny."

"I used to have nightmares about the day that world ended." She confessed. Shin-ah could imagine why. She'd told him when they first met about her fifteen years of confinement. And he thought he could imagine the kind of a life a princess might live – one full of light, without want, adored by those around her, without fear. A life of plenty.

"But since then, I've had to face so much that I didn't know… I've come to see the wrongs that went on while I played with Hak and S-" She broke off, and waited for a moment, as if to see if he would question her. Shin-ah was reveling in the sound of her voice, and the story of her life. He wanted to know her, but he knew that some things were hard to say.

"Back then, I was happy and ignorant and weak. Now I am less ignorant, and I am getting stronger."

He nodded. Her efforts were obvious and impressive. Even in the short time that he'd known her, he had seen her change and grow. But he had also seen her suffer. He had seldom felt so cursed as when his sharp eyes had taken in the curve of her back when she flinched in pain and the exact hue of her blood as it spilled from her body, and the way the light went out of her eyes, extinguished by the flood of tears that spilled down her cheeks.

"Now I dream that I am back in that bright and tiny little world, and I'm free of my worries and my pain… My father lives on, and everything is as it should be inside the castle, but then I open the gates and look out at the land and see it in ruins. Kouka is burning, and I'm just… standing there, smiling at the ashes."

She looked down at her hands, as if they might hold some comfort that she hadn't found in his face – or rather, in his mask. Her right hand drifted up to her shoulder absently to stroke the little squirrel's tail.

With effort, he wrestled some words together, trying to represent his thoughts.

"You can't go back."

She sighed again, gathering Ao in her hand and cradling her in her lap. Stroking the sleeping squirrel absently, she leaned over against his chest. Her hair brushed against his chin and his pulse quickened. He was glad he'd managed to get those words out, because he wasn't sure how he'd ever string a sentence together now.

"I know that…" She whispered. "And I think I'm glad of it. But sometimes… I feel so guilty thinking that I might even want to. There's a part of me that doesn't want to be strong. There's a part of me that misses being weak, because I know that it was hurt and pain that made me strong."

She shut her eyes and hid her face in his chest. On such a cool night, he could feel the warmth of her breath even through his thick robe.

Cautiously, he rubbed his hand that held her shoulder up and down, in what he hoped was a soothing, and perhaps warming, gesture.

His fingers tingled, but not from the cold.

He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't. Thoughts bumbled and bounced around his head, about the light of the moon, the way she felt in his arms, the strange race of his pulse, his compassion for her suffering, his admiration of her growth, her inexplicable trust in him… but he could not find a way to push any of those thoughts out through his mouth.

"I hate that side of me."

He frowned, but wasn't sure how to respond. She shouldn't hate herself – this made him angry. He understood the anger that welled up in his chest, and he tried to put words to the feeling, to explain to himself – so he might explain to her – why this was so wrong. Not for the first time, he failed.

She looked up at him again; the tears that had threatened to spill nowhere to be seen. She blinded him with the light of her smile.

"Thanks for listening, Shin-ah." Though he was still troubled, his heart warmed at the sound of his name on her lips. He watched them carefully as they moved to make the sound he so cherished. It was beautiful, like a tiny dance.

"I think I'll try to sleep again." She straightened her posture and stood gracefully, and he allowed his arm to fall back to his side. She tilted her hands toward him and poured the sleeping ball of fur that was Ao back onto his shoulder. She stroked her fur once more with obvious affection before turning and walking back to her tent. She seemed much more relaxed, and Shin-ah stared after her as she went.

He took a deep breath.

When her fingers moved so close to his face as she petted his sleeping companion he'd felt blood rush to his cheeks. Unbidden, he'd imagined the feel of those fingers against his cheeks, his jaw. He knew the feeling… she'd held his face in her hands before. It was unbearably intimate. His heart pounded remembering.

Not for the first time, he wished she would do it again.

But his brows furrowed under the mask as he recalled her unsettling words. "I hate that part of me," she'd said.

She hated a part of herself. Any part. He was dumbstruck.

Frustrated, he wondered, for the first time, _What do you see, Yona, when you look at yourself?_

* * *

Yun frowned to himself as he was woken by the rustling of the tent flap.

He wasn't sure how long she'd been gone, but the day's trek had wearied him. He'd woken when she left, and had intended to wait until she returned, to see if he should follow, but he'd fallen back asleep despite himself.

He was a little disappointed in himself, for not looking out for her better, but it didn't really matter. He was just a handsome genius, and she had sacred mythical guardians and a devoted one-man-army looking after her. He knew the Thunder Beast was out keeping watch, whatever the others were doing. If she'd needed help, someone more qualified than him would have given it.

Rolling over, he allowed his fatigue to wash over him again, and thought about what he was going to feed them all tomorrow.


End file.
